Still Three Shy
by Francesca Jones
Summary: She started drinking straight from the bottle, because that’s what Jess would’ve done. Post season six. One Shot


**Disclaimer:** None of it mine.

**A/N: **Lovers of happy endings, turn back now. This one-shot is like the all angst network: all angst, all the time. You've been warned.

**Summary: **"She started drinking straight from the bottle, because that's what Jess would've done." Post season six.

**Still Three Shy**

She started out with a glass of expensive wine and her copy of **The Subsect**. The text calmed her, soothed her into an almost numb complacency. She could almost hear Jess's voice, as though he were sitting across from her on the sofa and reading aloud to her.

The wine was wrong though. She shouldn't be thinking of Jess while drinking wine that cost a hundred dollars a bottle out of a crystal glass. She switched to Logan's expensive vodka, mixing it carefully with cranberry juice. One part vodka with three parts cranberry juice and you could hardly taste the liquor at all.

No, that wouldn't do at all.

She managed to find a shot glass and poured until the clear liquid overflowed from the mouth of it and pooled on the expensive wooden table. It burned her throat going down, and it managed to open some sort of previously locked door in her mind.

All of a sudden, she remembered meeting Jess for the first time. No one in Stars Hollow looked quite like him. Broody and standoffish and beautiful. It was shallow, but she had noticed that first. He was beautiful. There was something about him that just screamed of sexuality, even at the tender age of seventeen. Well, maybe she'd been tender. He certainly hadn't been, at least not on the surface.

Another shot leaked down her throat and Rory suppressed the urge to gag. She followed it immediately with another shot, but it just wasn't right. She started drinking straight from the bottle, because that's what Jess would've done.

She remembered the first time she realized she wanted to kiss him, when she called him after that horrible night at her grandparents. They'd talked about Ayn Rand for an hour, and she'd wanted him to be in the room with her so she could lean in and touch her lips to his. Instead, they'd just said goodnight and she'd hung up, feeling unfulfilled yet happy at the same time.

Another long drink from the bottle and she closed the book, flinging it across the room where it fell open again. She remembered the excitement tingling in her chest when he announced his return to Stars Hollow. _"I just…wanted to." _She'd pretend she had no control over her body as it pressed to his as they kissed for the first time, but she'd known exactly what she was doing. She was doing what she'd been thinking about doing for months.

She drained the rest of the bottle into her waiting mouth and let it fall to the floor, where it thudded dully but didn't break. She remembered thinking about sex seriously for the first time. She remembered the pulsating heat between her legs as his tongue touched hers and his hands found the back pockets of her jeans. She remembered wanting to go somewhere with him, somewhere private where he could strip off all her clothes and touch her in all the places she dreamed he would.

She remembered when he ran away, and that thought required another bottle of vodka. She stood and dizzily walked over to the liquor cabinet. The only vodka left was cheap, and Rory had no idea why Logan had it. She took it though and unscrewed the cap. This was much harsher on her body than the other bottle, but the more she drank, the more it tasted like water.

She remembered when he'd begged her to go away with him, and she remembered wanting to go. God, how drunk was she if that's the way she remembered it now? He'd been skinny and haggard and there'd be something tired behind his eyes. He was still beautiful, though. She could pretend that he wasn't, but he'd looked damned appealing when he showed up at her door. If he had wanted to go get dinner instead of run away forever, she would've said yes. There really was no one quite like him.

Her vision began to swim and she remembered when he showed up at her grandmother's with his book. Her heart had wanted to leap from her chest and out her mouth, but she'd quelled the feeling. He looked so happy, and he'd succeeded in so much. He finally became the man that Rory knew he could be, and it had been amazing to see and heartbreaking to realize that he'd done it without her.

He wanted her back though. He'd kissed her, and she'd wanted him to. She could lie about it, in fact she seemed to lie a lot about things involving Jess, but she'd wanted to feel his mouth on hers again and it felt so good. His tongue was made to mesh with hers, to send that heat between her legs so effortlessly. But she'd jumped away from him, too in love with Logan to let anything else happen. That deserved another swig of cheap vodka.

She remembered going into the Yale newsroom a few weeks, no it had been days, after that incident and finding a single sunflower in a blue vase on her desk. It came with an unsigned note that read _'No hard feelings'_ and Rory had smiled as she read it. She'd called him after that, left a voicemail on his cell that consisted of only eight words. _"Thank you. Let's keep in touch this time."_

And they had. Two more long drinks of vodka. A few brief e-mails here and there, and a random phone call or two in between. Then Logan had left, and about a month later she'd gotten the voicemail from Jess. _"I'm in Hartford for a week. Coffee?" _Brief, to the point, and so very Jess.

A little more vodka unlocked the memory of going for coffee with him that night. It was a little awkward, but it was nice. It was familiar. It was Rory and Jess, the way it always had been. They'd laughed, chosen a few safe memories to reminisce about, and they'd shared their opinions over Luke and Lorelai's breakup.

The next night they'd had dinner. Three long swigs of vodka burned a hole in her throat. They'd talked and laughed and Rory felt a familiar warmth enveloping her body as he stared deep into her with his dark eyes.

The next night she invited him to the apartment, and he was obviously uncomfortable in the ornate surroundings that she shared with Logan. They were unable to avoid the topic of him anymore. They had to talk about him. Rory lamented about him being in London, the unsettled and unsure feeling in her stomach that came with each phone call from him. He was the one though, she insisted, she was almost certain.

Jess had seemed thoughtful at the subject. Just thoughtful, not angry, but maybe he had been. Maybe she just wanted to remember him as calm about the subject. Another sip of vodka. Was the bottle really almost empty? She remembered what he'd said to her.

_"In my experience, the one you keep going back to is the one you can't imagine your life without. Is that how it is with Logan?"_

She hadn't answered his question, and she had a feeling that he understood what her silence meant, but maybe he didn't. He didn't say anything more about it, and he'd left soon after. Before he went though, he hugged her gently to him. He leaned into her and gently touched her jaw line with his fingertips. He gently traced a path from under her ear to her chin. She thought he was going to kiss her, could imagine him doing so. She could feel his tongue in her mouth, on her neck, down her shoulders, on her breasts. She could practically feel him inside her, feel her legs wrap around his waist as she bucked against him. She could almost hear the low, guttural sound of calling out his name as she came.

But he hadn't kissed her. None of that had happened. She swallowed the remnants of the bottle and tossed it aside on the couch. He'd left. He'd said he'd try to see her before he left, but he hadn't promised. It's a good thing he hadn't too, because he would've broken it and that just wasn't him anymore.

After he left, she wished that she'd answered the question. No, that isn't how it was with Logan. No, no, no, no, no. She didn't see him in her future, couldn't imagine being with him forever. It was Jess that she couldn't picture life without, and he had no idea. She could picture him with graying hair and reading glasses, complaining about the kids down the block. She could picture him sneaking cigarettes in the bathroom after the doctor advised him to quit. She could picture gorgeous grandkids that he'd never fully admit to adoring. She could see it like it was happening, but it was never going to happen.

"Rory?" Through the thick water that had filled the apartment, she heard someone calling her name.

"Jess?" She slurred, collapsing onto the sofa.

"Ace?"

"No." Rory murmured to herself, hugging the empty vodka bottle and sitting back up. "Not Jess."

"Your mom said no one heard from you since the funeral. Are you OK?" Logan asked, standing in the doorway with a small bag at his feet. He wouldn't be staying of course. He'd be back in London soon. His eyes took in the empty wine glass, the red-stained glass that had held the cranberry juice concoction, the shot glass, and the two empty bottles.

"Jesus, Rory, how much have you had?"

Rory stood on shaky legs and the empty bottle slipped from her hands, breaking into pieces on the floor. "Oh, About three less than the dumb fuck who killed Jess."

Tears filled Rory's eyes for the first time since she heard the news. Why hadn't he walked? His hotel wasn't that far away. Why had he taken a cab? Why had that stupid asshole gotten behind the wheel? Why hadn't she answered the question when he'd asked it? Why hadn't she taken the initiative and kissed him? Why hadn't she done _something_?

"Rory…" Logan took a step towards her and the room started to spin. She took a step towards him and did the only thing she could.

She leaned over and threw up all over Logan's black leather shoes, because that's what Jess would've wanted her to do.

**End.**

**A/N the 2nd**: This was written after the song _Still Three Shy_ by The Pink Spiders, particularly the lines _and I try, try, try/ to forget it but I die inside / every time I miss it / cuz you're still three shy / don't you forget / it's not a party when we're gone / And if the cops come by / have a drink and tell them this one's for the boys. _Just thought y'all should know where the idea came from. Check out the song if you wish, it's darn good.


End file.
